San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-01-17
The Makeshift Colt.
A TALE OF THE DERBY.

give me an occasional job, to make a
copy of the like. And then there were
certain pawnbrokers,' 1 was aware of,
who would advance some on such pict-
ures as brought them. Oh, yesl that
used to be regular system then,
and / dare say it is now.
This is the way of it, you paint pict-
ure and take it to the artistic uncle"
He lends you on it certain price,
which he fixes according to the size Of
the picture, and with small relation to
its subject or execution. If you think
proper, of course, you can redeem the
picture any time within year, or you
could take possible purchaser to view
it at the shop. At the expiration! of the
year it becomes "uncle's" property.
Lots of us used to find that these
pawnbrokers were our only patrons.
They lent us price on our paintings,
that, deducting the cost of materials,
would leave us what might be reckoned
a shilling an hour or so for our own
work. And that work, as you may sup
pose, was far from being our best; yet
with our best we could do no better.
We pawned our pot-boilers without a
thought of ever taking them ut"again.
In due course they passed irrevocably
into "uncle's" possession. What he did
with them then we neither knew nor
cared.
Among the men used to meet about
in the studies or consort within the bar
parlor of the Brush and Palette of an
evening were many whose sole means
of livelihood appeared to be painting
for the pawnbrokers. / had another re-
source as | have mentioned-that pict-
ure-dealer, out of whom used to make
wages pretty frequently. And then
there was that relative of mine who,
though he considered me to be an idle
good-for-nothing, would not let me go
wrong for want of E10 note.
was a sort of Cresus among these
out-at-elbows daubers then. They drank
and smoked and ate very frequently at
my expense in the free, happy style of
Bohemia; and they also often borrow
ed" shillings and half-crowns with the
careless bonhOmie of their guild. They
made much of me, and tickled my
youthful vanity by pretending to take
it for granted that personal talent with
the brush was the real source OF my
comparative affluence.
had no business to call myself poor,
for had, from the various sources, a
total income of over two hundred a
year. Then had good capital, in the
shape OF a fair stock of such things as a
young artist requires, an extensive
wardrobe, some furniture and books, !
was comfortable enough in my humble
studio, which also was my living-rOOm,
with a small bedroom adjoining it.
There was no reason why ! should have
felt poverty, but did.
Like most inexperienced youngsters,
Ihad but the vaguest ideas Of the value
Of money. Moreover, l was extrava-
CANT, never stinting my expenditure,
and wasting lot more money than l
could afford at the Brush and Palette
and similar places. l was always in ar.
rears, and worst of all, l fell into sad
way of betting on races.
Now, goody-goody people would say
that such thing was impossible and In
comprehensive: but swear to you that
what led me to take to betting and
gambling with more than ordinary zeal
was the purest and hottest incentive
man could have.
A woman, of course, you say. Wen,
yes, but girl rather than a woman she
was then. Lucy was the daughter of
small tradesman, a druggist, in Camden
Town. had made her acquaintance in
some informal way, and had gradually
wormed myself into the confidence Of
the family. l was madly in love with
Lucy, who-well won't attempt to'de-
scribe her, for certain reasons not far
of us Just now. Suffice it, she was, like
Traddles' Sophy,' 'the dearest girl in the
world"
Many visits to the little household,
and various little trips to Richmond or
Epping Forest, play-going, and what
not in her company, had the usual re-
suit. ] told Lucy of my love, and she
consented to become my wife,
Now, had | been free from debt, there
was really no reason why we should not
have married at once. l had as much
as many curate marries upon. But
then was in debt; l had duns and diff
culties, no present means of making my
domicile fit for wife, and, above all,
my little income was some what pre-
carious. Then HAD no PARTICULAR pros
poets to look forward to.
Lucy's father, like most men of his
class in London, particularly if blessed
with large family, as he was, hardly
said either yea or nay to the matter. He
allowed us to judge for ourselves. l
was gentleman, he said-meaning
thereby an honest mainland meant to
act straight by his girl; so what more
was there for him to say2
Well, by the spring Of 1872 our en-
gagement had continued for some
months, and was daily getting more
dRanlv involved hv reason of NV nursuit